


Losing You (Is My Supervillain Origin Story)

by Amethystina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Bucky is not okay, But He Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, I know it doesn't seem like it but I promise there is a happy ending, I'm tagging this as Teen but it is a bit dark in places, It will just hurt a lot before we get there, M/M, Off-Screen Murder, Revenge, perceived character death, so please be advised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: There are a lot of things that Bucky regrets. The list is, quite frankly, longer than he can handle on most days and, right at the very top, is lying to Tony about who killed his parents. Bucky has known even from before they started dating, but he simply can't bring himself to say anything — to ruin one of the few good things he has in his life. It's selfish and wrong, but Bucky just doesn't know how to tell Tony that he is the one responsible for Howard and Maria Stark's deaths.So when he starts receiving anonymous emails, threatening to expose the truth to Tony and the rest of the world, Bucky is desperate enough to agree to the blackmailer's terms, even if it means breaking up with Tony. Bucky cannot, under any circumstances, let Tony find out about his parents from anyone but Bucky himself.Too late Bucky realizes that there is much more to the blackmailer's scheme than just having Bucky break Tony's heart. Too late Bucky realizes that despite his best intentions, he will still end up losing everything — in a much more permanent way than he could ever have imagined.





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

> _**Prompt by Anonymous:** Ironwinter "You need to go." or "I don't want you." because I could use some angst please._ Taken from [THIS](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146712778193/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come) prompt post.
> 
> SO. The prompter asked for angst and, being the lovely person that I am, I wrote this first chapter and posted it on my Tumblr as a finished story. Turns out it was a little TOO angsty, though, because people kept asking me to give it a happy ending. So this is that. It will take a while before we get there and it will hurt quite a lot on the way, but there IS a happy ending, I assure you. And yes, as the title implies, things aren't going to go all that well for Bucky. He's not going _completely_ off the rails, but he certainly gets close. 
> 
> A huge thank you to [Snnaaft](https://snnaaft.tumblr.com/) for beta reading, and also to [ivoughrie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoughrie/pseuds/ivoughrie) for reading through this thing and offering me encouraging comments while being angry at me for how much it hurt <3

 

* * *

 

Of all the terrible things Bucky had done, this might actually be the worst. Tony was staring at him in confusion, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Perhaps Bucky should have picked a better time for this, but he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tony asked, but his words lacked their usual confidence.

"I said, we should break up." Bucky managed to maintain eye contact, but it took everything he had.

Tony blinked, his coffee cup lowering. Bucky could see the walls beginning to slam shut — Tony always hid behind them when he felt insecure or hurt.

"Okay. I admit that was sudden." Tony sounded indifferent, but Bucky knew better. It was the carefree kind of nonchalance that Tony used whenever he felt like he'd lost control of the situation. Unsurprisingly, his boyfriend of six months suddenly dumping him without warning qualified as one of those times.

With effort, Bucky kept going, reminding himself that he _had_ to do this. There was no other way. "Yeah, I know," he said. "We gave it a try, but I don't think it's gonna work."

Bucky hated himself.

Tony swallowed — the tiniest of hint that he was coming apart — but he clearly refused to show any weakness other than that. The walls were up, leaving Tony looking polite yet distant — as if he was talking to a complete stranger. A part of Bucky would have preferred if Tony had yelled at him, but he knew that wasn't how Tony worked.

When he was truly hurt or upset, Tony always went unnervingly quiet.

"Well, I guess that settles it then," Tony replied, turning his back on Bucky on the pretense of refilling his coffee. The cup was already full, but Tony seemed to need the distraction.

He didn't even ask for an explanation. Bucky had one prepared, just in case, but he'd known all along that Tony would accept Bucky's decision to break up without complaint and simply assume it was his fault. When it came to things like these, Tony always blamed himself.

Bucky swallowed. "It's nothin' you did," he said, trying to soften the blow, both for Tony's sake and his own conscience. "I'm just—"

"Spare me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech, okay?" Tony interrupted. His smile was sharp — so sharp Bucky almost flinched. "I've heard it enough times to know it really is me."

"Tony, no. You're wonderful—"

"But not wonderful enough to be your boyfriend. I get it." Tony shrugged and carefully maneuvered around Bucky to leave the kitchen, probably heading for the workshop where he could lock himself away for the foreseeable future. "Honestly, you only have to say 'I don't want you' and I'll get the hint. Don't try to sugarcoat it."

"That's not what I'm—"

"Will you be moving back to your own floor?" Tony stopped just inside the doorway, face blank. "If so, I'd appreciate it if you cleared out your things from my room before the day was over." Tony's words were clipped yet polite, and he wouldn't meet Bucky's eyes.

"Tony, I..." Bucky fell silent, realizing it was no use; Tony had every right to be mad at him. "Yes. I'll get it done," Bucky replied softly.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me." Tony left the kitchen without a second glance, his shoulders tense and head held high.

The moment Tony disappeared out of view, Bucky buried his face in his hands, trying not to hyperventilate. His heart was beating loud enough to ache, but that was nothing compared to knowing just how much he'd hurt Tony. It didn't matter what Bucky said — Tony _would_ blame himself and probably withdraw from everyone around him while he tried to regain his bearings. That was what had happened when Pepper left him.

Bucky blinked away the tears, allowing the guilt free reign. Breaking up with Tony was the last thing Bucky wanted, but he _had_ to — for Tony's sake. This had gone on long enough.

Why had Bucky been stupid enough to think he deserved someone like Tony? He _knew_ what he had done, but he'd hoped it would never come to light — that Tony would never find out. The entire time they'd been together, Bucky had been battling the guilt, but that had been a small price to pay for the privilege of waking up next to Tony every morning. The problem was that Bucky had been selfish — far too selfish. Tony _deserved_ to know, but Bucky had kept it from him.

Bucky regretted that now. If he'd come clean at the beginning — before that first, wonderful kiss in Tony's workshop — none of this would have happened. The anonymous emails with their attached pictures wouldn't have had any sway over him.

The last email had even included a video.

He'd watched himself murder Tony's parents in cold blood, over and over and over again. That wasn't something Tony should have to see. It was, in all likelihood, something Tony wouldn't be able to forgive, either. So Bucky would do what it took to keep that video away from Tony, even if it meant succumbing to blackmail and breaking up with him.

Tony deserved better than the cowardly liar who had killed his parents. As much as it hurt, breaking up with Tony was for the best.

"We'll find out who's doing this."

The softly spoken words made Bucky look up. Steve was standing in the doorway, his expression pained but determined — he must have been listening in on Bucky and Tony's conversation. Or maybe it was the devastated look on Bucky's face that made Steve appear so sad.

Bucky didn't know when Steve had found out what he had done. He was grateful, though, because when Bucky came to him after the emails had started arriving, frantic and afraid, Steve hadn't flinched. Bucky had been surprised, he could admit — he hadn't known _Steve_ knew — but it had made things a lot easier. He'd had someone to turn to, and someone to help him figure out his next course of action.

Neither of them liked lying to Tony. It hurt to go behind his back, time and time again, and Bucky knew that the longer they kept quiet, the worse it would get. He knew Tony would find out eventually — he'd realized that long ago — but he still kept postponing it, not wanting to ruin the small bubble of happiness he'd been able to create together with Tony.

Now that was gone. Bucky's secrets had cost him the very thing he'd tried to protect by lying, and he only had himself to blame. It was his fault. And, to make matters worse, Tony was the one who would suffer the most from his mistakes, not Bucky.

The thought of hurting Tony was unbearable.

The initial plan had actually been to tell Tony everything, but the blackmailer had put an end to that by threatening to send the video to the media. Bucky had still wanted to tell Tony, video be damned, but Steve had reminded him that Bucky had already had a hard time winning the approval of the public. A reveal of this magnitude — him having murdered Howard and Maria Stark — would cause a backlash that would be near impossible to control. Especially if anyone found out that Steve and Bucky had both known, but kept it from Tony. All of the Avengers would get pulled into that kind of mess, not just Bucky, and they couldn't risk it.

And so Bucky had reluctantly agreed to find the blackmailer first, _then_ tell Tony.

But that was before the new demand came — the one telling him he had to end his and Tony's relationship, or else Tony and several notable reporters would find that video in their inbox within a couple of hours.

The fact that he and Tony were together was public knowledge — it was one of the things that had made Bucky's standing with the public a little rocky — but the demand made very little sense. Bucky couldn't understand what the blackmailer was trying to gain. What was the endgame?

He'd still done it, in fear of what would happen if he didn't. Everything was turning into such a mess.

"Buck, we'll solve this," Steve said, stepping closer.

Bucky gritted his teeth, his shoulders hitching. "And then what? You think he'll forgive me?" He glared at Steve, even if he had done nothing to deserve Bucky's anger. In all honesty, Bucky was more angry with himself. "I _murdered his parents_ , then dumped him with no explanation whatsoever. Tony and I..." His throat closed up and he had to swallow to be able to keep going. "We're over. I should have told him from the start, then none of this would have happened."

Steve placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder and he had to fight the urge to shrug it off. Bucky didn't deserve to be consoled. If anyone deserved support, it was Tony, not him.

"We'll figure it out." Steve probably hoped for his words to be comforting, but Bucky knew both of them were grasping at straws. Two weeks had passed without any results in their search for the blackmailer, and he had begun to lose hope. They didn't even know what the blackmailer's goal was, since Bucky breaking up with Tony couldn't be it.

There had to be something they had missed.

One thing Bucky _did_ know for sure was that as soon as he and Steve had found the person responsible for the blackmailing, Bucky would tell Tony everything. He was done keeping secrets. Their relationship might be broken beyond repair, but Tony deserved to know. Bucky would come clean and then, if Tony was willing, try to salvage as much of their friendship as possible. He didn't dare to hope that Tony would still love him — not after what Bucky had done — but maybe they could remain friends.

Even that would be more than Bucky deserved.

A week later, Bucky realized what he and Steve had missed.

The blackmailer wasn't trying to hurt Bucky or ruin _his_ reputation — their target was someone else entirely, and had been all along.

It was Tony they were after.

"Bucky, don't do this to yourself," Steve pleaded. Bucky ignored him and kept watching the surveillance video playing on his tablet.

Tony was sitting at one of the tables in his workshop, his head bent over his soldering. Tony's feet were bare, one of his legs tucked under him — he always looked so much younger when sitting like that — and his hair was mussed in that casual, handsome way Bucky loved.

Bucky loved many things about Tony.

U was helping, holding a magnifying glass to make it easier for Tony to see the smaller components of the circuit board he was working on. The scene was comforting — Bucky had seen it in person more times than he could count — and he could almost pretend, at least for a couple of minutes, that everything was fine.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't, though.

Bucky watched until the flicker came — distorting the image with misplaced pixels — a split second before the video abruptly cut off. Without hesitation, he pressed play again, starting over. The black screen lit up and Tony was back at his workbench, hunched over his newest project, with U at his side.

"Bucky—"

"Shut up, Steve." Bucky didn't even feel guilty for snapping. He couldn't take his eyes off Tony.

_He should never have taken his eyes off Tony._

"It's not your fault," Steve said. There was so much pain in his voice and Bucky knew he should be kinder — he wasn't the only one grieving.

Bucky didn't reply. Steve was wrong — it _was_ Bucky's fault.

He should have insisted Tony come along for the mission, even if it was just a simple investigation into a suspected HYDRA lair. He should have convinced Steve not to let Tony stay behind. He should have asked Tony to come out of the workshop before they left, if only so that Bucky could see him one last time.

The Avengers had been halfway to Germany when they got the news.

Even if they'd turned the Quinjet right back around — heedless of the mission they were abandoning — it had already been too late. There was nothing they could do.

According to the report, the initial explosion had nearly obliterated two entire floors of the Avengers Tower, and the resulting fire had destroyed what little might have been left. Miraculously, the fire hadn't spread much further than the topmost floors thanks to all the security measures Tony and JARVIS had put in place.

Two whole floors were gone, though — Tony's floors — and there was no question about them being targeted specifically. The explosion had been caused by a bomb, not a gas leak or one of Tony's projects going haywire.

The fact that the Avengers were now homeless, currently housed in an old S.H.I.E.L.D. base, didn't matter half as much as the fact that those two floors were gone — and Tony along with them.

Bucky had been told that the chances of finding Tony's remains were low. If the explosion hadn't erased every single trace, the fire had. Whatever pieces that might be left would be too small, easily disappearing amongst the rest of the debris.

Tony was gone.

The only thing Bucky had left was the video of Tony's last minutes alive. He guessed he should be grateful Tony had died quickly, but knowing that didn't help. It didn't ease the heaviness in Bucky's chest, or lighten the grief threatening to suffocate him.

He hadn't cried yet. Bucky wasn't sure why. Perhaps the anger kept him going, or maybe he was still in shock. Hours had passed, but he hadn't cried. If he did, it would all become real.

He wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Not ever.

"Did you hear me, Bucky?" Steve asked, concern lacing his voice. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

Bucky didn't reply at first, taking a slow, deep breath. His gaze continued to rest on Tony — a recorded ghost of the real thing, but the only one Bucky had left.

"I'll kill them," he said. "I'll kill them all."

There was a beat of tense silence before Steve spoke. "What?" The amount of horrified alarm in that one word was almost impressive.

Bucky gritted his teeth, hard enough that his jaw ached. "I'll find out who did this, and I'll kill them. Every single one."

"Bucky, you can't—"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," Bucky snarled. "I'll kill them for what they did to him."

_For taking him away from me._

Bucky knew Steve was upset — shaken and uncomfortable in the face of Bucky's anger — but it was high time Steve learned. As much as both of them liked to pretend everything was like before, Bucky wasn't the same as he had been back in the day. His time with HYDRA had changed him. They could ignore it all they wanted, but he was still the Winter Soldier — with all that entailed. He wasn't righteous like Steve, and he wouldn't hesitate to use everything he had learned if it meant he could avenge Tony's death.

Bucky would do whatever it took to see justice done.

"You know I can't let you do that," Steve said, voice low.

The words caused a pang in Bucky's chest — he could admit that — but he pushed it down. Putting strain on his and Steve's friendship was the last thing he wanted, but there were things Bucky couldn't forgive.

This was one of them. Someone had to pay.

"I know," he replied. Finally, for the first time since Steve had entered the bland room Bucky had been assigned, he looked up and met Steve's gaze. "But that won't stop me. _You_ won't stop me."

Bucky wanted revenge, and he would get it even if it meant going through Steve. Failure wasn't an option.

Steve looked pained, but didn't reply. He probably couldn't find the words.

When Steve didn't speak or move, Bucky looked back down at his tablet. Tony was still there, by his workbench, with his circuit board. His feet were bare, leg tucked under him, and his hair was perfectly tousled. For another couple of seconds, Bucky could pretend that Tony was still out there, working on his projects and cooing at his bots. This was all he had.

The image crackled and cut off, the screen turning black.

Bucky took a deep breath and pressed play.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are going to be a little shorter than my usual ones, but I hope you'll like it! See you next Friday!


	2. Free

 

* * *

 

"Next file, JARVIS."

The AI didn't reply verbally, but the file popped up on Bucky's screen, as requested. Ever since the explosion at the Avengers Tower, JARVIS spoke very little and whenever he did, he sounded flat and mechanical — like a robot. Before, Bucky had always marveled at how lifelike JARVIS was — he'd been able to convey so many emotions just by the tone of his voice and his sarcasm was, quite frankly, top-notch. That was gone now.

As far as Bucky knew, it was not because of damage to JARVIS's servers — those were located in secure rooms far away from where the blast had occurred — but rather something he'd been programmed to do. It was simply as if JARVIS had stripped away all the unnecessary functions and left only the core, now running in safe-mode.

Protecting Tony had always been JARVIS's prime objective and — now that he was gone — JARVIS had obviously lost his purpose.

Bucky could relate.

He suspected that JARVIS was also, in his own way, mourning the loss of the bots — Bucky knew he was. The mere thought of them being gone, something Tony loved with all his heart, no matter how much he complained about their stupidity, was excruciating. Bucky wanted to cling to whatever pieces of Tony he had left, but there were so few. So much had been destroyed in the explosion and following fire — Tony's clothes, all of his things, and even his workshop. It was as if whoever had placed that bomb had been hell-bent on erasing every single physical trace of Tony's existence.

There were articles and news feeds and paparazzi photos, of course — one Google search and Bucky could find an endless supply of information about Tony, most of it lies — but that wasn't what he wanted. What Bucky longed for were the small things, like the sight of Tony's toothbrush next to his on the bathroom sink, or the content look on Tony's face when he curled up on the couch wearing one of Bucky's hoodies, or just the smell of Tony's skin when Bucky wrapped himself around him in bed, nose pressed against the back of Tony's neck.

It hadn't even been two weeks but _God_ how Bucky missed Tony's scent.

It was near impossible to sleep without Tony next to him — Bucky had realized that in the week after they'd broken up. Bucky had gotten used to the warmth of another person and the sound of Tony's soft, rhythmic breaths lulling him to sleep. Bucky's single bed at the old S.H.I.E.L.D. compound felt much too big, even if it was entirely appropriate for one lone super soldier. The situation was only made worse by the knowledge that Tony wasn't sleeping safely a couple of rooms away. Not this time.

There was an empty hole that was simply impossible to fill.

Bucky's gaze strayed to his phone that lay on the table next to him, well within arm's reach. It was a constant temptation. There were other photos of Tony than those on Google — ones Bucky had taken himself — but he hadn't dared to look at them since the explosion. He wasn't sure what he would feel if he did. Most of them were of Tony when he was smiling — soft, private moments that Bucky treasured almost possessively, knowing they were just for him.

He might break down if he looked at those photos.

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, allowing the silence around him to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. There was no helping the tightly wound ball of grief in his chest, though, so he didn't even try.

A second passed, then another, before Bucky felt compelled to speak.

"Is spying really somethin' Captain America should be doing?" he asked out loud, tone flat.

There was a brief, guilty silence before Steve replied. "I wasn't spying."

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at Steve, who was hovering in the doorway to the mess hall. The old S.H.I.E.L.D. base was clearly meant for more people than a couple of homeless Avengers, which made the sterile, echoing hallways seem hauntingly empty. The place felt cold and abandoned compared to the warm familiarity of the tower, but the structural damage after the blast had been too severe — living there was unsafe, at least for now.

Bucky doubted he would ever want to go back — not when Tony wouldn't be there with him.

"So what _do_ you call it when you stand just outside the room, listenin' in? Recon?" Bucky wasn't angry — he knew Steve's behavior was fueled by concern, not something sinister — but he didn't like being surveilled, either.

Steve sighed and walked over to sit opposite to Bucky, looking at him over Bucky's open laptop. "I'm just worried about you," he replied.

Bucky gritted his teeth. "That doesn't give you a right to spy on me."

Steve averted his gaze — which was as close to an admission of guilt as Bucky would get — and, predictably, changed the subject. Steve didn't like being called out on his bad behavior.

"Have you found anything new?"

Despite his frustration, Bucky decided to leave the argument about spying for another day.

"Not much," he replied, gaze shifting to the laptop screen. "I've narrowed down the list some, but it's difficult."

Tony had _a lot_ of enemies — possibly even more than Bucky — and they came from all different directions. There were competitors who despised his success, environmentalists and pacifists who hated the wars and pollution Stark Industries had caused in the past, and, not to forget, actual supervillains. After that came the jilted lovers, angered former employees, reporters, civilians affected during Avengers conflicts, and plain old crazies who also wouldn't mind getting a piece of Tony. While not all of those would be capable of the kind of violence required for the attack on the tower, trying to narrow down the names to a manageable list of suspects was time-consuming work.

Thankfully, Bucky had all the time in the world.

So far, he'd reached the conclusion that the attack had been personal. For one reason or another, the bomber felt Tony had wronged them somehow, and had decided that they wanted revenge. The fact that the blackmailer had insisted Bucky break up with Tony had showed as much. Sure, their breakup was what had made Tony reluctant to come along on the mission to Germany and, consequently, had gotten him killed by the bomb, but the blackmailer couldn't have been stupid enough to base their entire plan on Tony choosing to stay home.

No, the breakup had been about making Tony suffer — to ruin his life and make him feel abandoned — and that wasn't something an angered activist or even a competitor would do.

"Have you looked into Justin Hammer?" Steve suggested.

"Yeah, but it's not him."

Justin Hammer was still in jail for the things he had done back in 2010, long before Bucky even met Tony. A prison sentence might not be a guarantee of innocence — not to someone so rich with contacts both high and low — but Hammer didn't strike Bucky as a subtle enough person to have done this. Hammer would want to humiliate Tony, preferably publicly, and make a spectacle out of it. Bucky didn't believe that Hammer wanted Tony dead, even with their hostile history.

Bucky stared at the file JARVIS had opened on his laptop — some peace activist in California who had reportedly tried to sabotage SI factories back when they still made weapons — and slowly shook his head.

"It has to be someone who knows the Avengers Tower, or at least how to gain classified information about it." He looked at Steve. "How did they even manage to get the bomb inside the tower?"

"We don't know yet," Steve replied, clearly not taking it for the rhetorical question it was intended as. "Nat is—"

"I know," Bucky interrupted, leaning forward over the table. "But I'm not sure how much she'll find. Think about it, Steve. This isn't just some random attack — the bomb was sophisticated enough to slip past JARVIS. The person who did this must have had resources and skills few have access to. They probably know how to cover their tracks."

"They could have paid someone to build the bomb," Steve pointed out.

"Maybe, yes," Bucky agreed," but it's still personal." He gritted his teeth. "They wanted Tony erased and, before that, they wanted him broken. This isn't a jealous competitor or a peace-loving idealist on a crusade. This is dark, twisted revenge — someone wanted him to _suffer_ before he died, and they wanted to make sure that he would never, ever return."

The amount of fear in Steve's eyes made Bucky's spine stiffen. He knew it wasn't because of what he had just said — not the words, at least — but the tone. Bucky understood this person's need for revenge because he yearned for it just as badly.

Steve cleared his throat. "Bucky—"

"Spare me," Bucky snapped. Anger was burning just under his skin, hot and invigorating. "I can't forgive them for what they did. I'm not like you, who always sees the potential for redemption, and I never will be. I'll handle this my way."

"Please, Bucky. Don't do this."

In any other situation, Steve's pleading would probably have worked, but not when it came to this. Not when Tony was dead and the last real conversation he and Bucky had was when Bucky had dumped him.

Bucky would forever have to live with the knowledge that Tony had died thinking Bucky didn't want him anymore. The thought was unbearable.

"We've tried it your way, Steve."

"Tony wouldn't want you to—"

"You don't know shit!" Bucky snarled, getting to his feet. Steve rose as well, but he didn't step closer, probably sensing Bucky would take that as a threat. "Tony would want the person caught! And that's what I'm tryin' to do!"

Steve's jaw was tightly clenched, his back straight. "Tony wouldn't want you losing yourself in the process," Steve replied, words firm and ruthlessly honest. "He loved you. And he would be devastated if he found out that you're contemplating murder just to—"

"Shut up!" Bucky roared. "Shut _up_!"

"Bucky—"

"No! I don't want to hear it!" Bucky could no longer determine if that was anger or grief in his voice, but he recognized the way his throat was beginning to close up. "Tony's dead and I... I have to do somethin' about it. You know I have to."

Steve raised his hands, obviously trying to placate. "Of course. But you're not alone. Let us help you. We'll find whoever did this — together."

Bucky swallowed, trying not to succumb to the burning behind his eyelids. Not now — not yet. He couldn't risk breaking down. He took a deep breath, pushing down the loss and the pain and the fear, focusing on what had to be done.

He ran a hand down his face, trying to pretend it wasn't trembling. When he looked up and met Steve's gaze, there was so much hope there.

"Fine," Bucky mumbled, his shoulders slumping.

The relief on Steve's face was heartbreaking, especially since Bucky knew it wouldn't be there for long.

"Okay, good." Steve carefully stepped closer, but didn't touch — he seemed to know that would be a bad idea at the moment. "We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

Bucky looked into Steve's eyes and he had to admit that there was a lot of conviction there — Steve really did believe they could fix things his way. Unfortunately, Bucky didn't agree.

He knew better than to say that out loud, however.

"Yeah," he said. Lying was surprisingly easy. "We will."

Steve smiled tentatively; Bucky didn't.

It was well past 3AM when Bucky finally deemed it safe to make his way through the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound, heading for the garage. His motorcycle had been parked together with Tony's cars back at the tower, but once the Avengers had moved, Bucky had insisted on bringing it along. It wasn't just because the bike was one of the first things he'd bought for himself after reclaiming his life — a milestone in so many way — but because he had always known it would come to this.

He would have to leave if he wanted to find whoever had killed Tony. Steve and the others wouldn't understand.

Bucky's footsteps were soundless in the big underground garage, the fluorescent lights leading the way to where he had parked his motorcycle. The packed saddlebags were slung over his arm and he quickly slipped them in place, knowing he had to hurry. It would be just like Steve to figure out what Bucky was about to do and come marching in to stop him, never mind that it was in the middle of the night and that everyone should be asleep.

The thought had barely crossed Bucky's mind before he felt a shiver down his spine — a clear indication that someone was watching him.

His first instinct was to reach for the knife strapped to his thigh, but a split second later he realized who it had to be. There was only one person currently on the team who could sneak up on him.

Bucky turned his head, not the least bit surprised to find Natasha standing by one of the concrete pillars, looking as if she'd just happened to have caught him while out for a stroll.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Bucky replied flatly. He started double-checking the straps of his saddlebags.

Silence fell. Natasha didn't move.

Once done, Bucky looked back up at her. "Are you going to stop me?" he asked. He didn't _want_ to hurt her, but he would — if she got in his way.

Natasha shook her head. Out of everyone, she probably understood him the best. They had both been shaped into ruthless killers and, even though they tried, it was sometimes difficult to remember what it was like to be human. Care and love — things they had been conditioned not to feel — were so much more complicated than falling back on years of indoctrination.

Sometimes, it was easier to be a monster.

She watched in silence while Bucky straightened up his motorcycle and pushed back the kickstand. He swung his leg over the seat and it wasn't until he was reaching out to turn the key that Natasha spoke again.

"Be careful," she said.

Bucky looked up at her and nodded. "Take care of Steve and the others."

She nodded back, gaze solemn. "Don't get lost."

Bucky stiffened, his fingers tightening around the handlebars. There was no reprimand or fear in her eyes though — not like with Steve — only understanding. That somehow made it worse. Bucky swallowed and averted his gaze.

"I can't make any promises," he answered, voice low.

"I know." Natasha sounded sad. "But you can try."

After a deep, trembling breath, Bucky dared to raise his gaze to meet hers. He knew his smile had to look frail — maybe even pained — but it was the best he could do.

"I'll try."

Natasha smiled. "Good luck."

Bucky's chest felt heavier than he thought it would when he nodded in thanks and turned the key in the ignition. He knew he couldn't stay, though. He had to find out who had killed Tony, and Steve would never stop meddling. It was for the best.

At least that was what Bucky told himself as he gave Natasha one final look before driving off, leaving the S.H.I.E.L.D. base behind.

By the time Bucky decided to stop and sleep, more than a day had passed. He'd taken a couple of quick breaks here and there — mostly to fill up on gas — but had known that the further he got, the better. Otherwise Steve might try to catch up.

Fortunately, whatever serum HYDRA had given him helped Bucky stay alert long after most people would have driven into a ditch, and he stopped only because he was beginning to feel a little stiff.

Once he'd checked into a motel room he fished out his phone, not the least bit surprised to find several worried texts and twenty-eight missed calls from Steve. Bucky read the texts and listened to the voicemails, but replied to none. They were all the same, pleading for him to come back before he did something he might regret. Steve didn't seem to realize that Bucky had already done what he regretted most of all.

He shouldn't have fallen for the blackmail. He shouldn't have let Steve convince him that Bucky's reputation was more worth than Tony's well-being. He shouldn't have broken up with Tony.

Those were things Bucky would never be able to change — decisions that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The ones he made now wouldn't be, however. He wanted justice and he was not going to stop before he got it.

"JARVIS," he said out loud. Tony had been adamant that all the Avengers should have access to the AI through their phones, should they need his help, and Bucky had never been more grateful for that. He might have left Steve behind, but Bucky knew he couldn't do this alone.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky still wasn't used to how flat JARVIS's words were — not helped by the tinny speakers of Bucky's phone — but he pushed that aside.

"Has Steve been trying to locate me?"

While Bucky had made sure to leave all the trackers behind, his phone and laptop were just as easy to locate through the networks Tony had set up — unless you had an almost all-powerful AI on your side, willing to block the signals.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS replied. "Captain Rogers was, however, unsuccessful."

Bucky's tense shoulders relaxed. While Steve outranked him, it was clear that JARVIS, in some part of his coding, had recognized that Bucky was the one working towards the same prime objective as he was. Tony might be dead, but Bucky was doing more to avenge him than Steve, and thus earned JARVIS's favor.

No matter what Steve might think of Bucky's actions, at least JARVIS seemed to agree with him.

"Thanks, JARVIS. Keep me posted, okay?" Bucky sat down on the edge of the uncomfortable motel bed. "And let me know when you've confirmed Daniel Reyes' location. He's first on my list."

"Of course, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky stared down at his phone for a couple of seconds, debating whether or not it was actually wise to say more. In the end, he chose to, more so for his own sake than the AI's.

"I will find out who did this, JARVIS. I will make them pay."

"I know you will," came JARVIS's crisp, curt reply, but it was somehow more comforting than both Steve and Natasha's words combined.

Bucky let out a slow breath and fell back on the bed, knowing the conversation was over — JARVIS had stopped replying to greetings and goodnights, so those were unnecessary. Without thinking Bucky looked at his phone and pressed on the little icon that opened up the video gallery. He still avoided the photos, but the surveillance video was fine, perhaps because he had watched it so many times already.

There was the sound of a car outside, the headlights momentarily causing a flash of brightness across the wall of Bucky's motel room, but apart from that the night was dark and silent. The pressure on Bucky's shoulders had eased a great deal now that he had left the S.H.I.E.L.D. base behind, and it felt like he was finally able to breathe — finally able to focus on what needed to be done.

For now, though, he would settle for lying on his rented bed and looking at Tony as he sat in his workshop, U at this side, blissfully unaware of what awaited him and so wonderfully alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky isn't doing too well, no, and he's going to spiral further out of reach before this is over. There IS a happy ending though, so hang in there!
> 
> Also! I've joined an 18+ Winteriron server on Discord and it's loads of fun! It's a place where you can get help with your fanfics, discuss headcanons, or just hang out. It's a super nice place! If you're interested in joining, just [click this link right here](https://discord.gg/A32YB6Y) and an admin or mod will help you get set up! Maybe I'll see you there! :D


	3. Fall

 

* * *

 

Bucky sat in a comfortable leather chair, looking out over the Chicago skyline. The city lights twinkled in the dark night, drowning out the stars above. There was a soft click when the door behind him opened, followed by relaxed footsteps. Only once Bucky had heard the door close again did he turn the chair around.

"Good evening," he said, almost lazily.

The middle-aged man approaching the desk jumped, dropping the folders he'd been holding. "Holy shi—" He quickly shut his mouth, surprise turning into fury. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my office?"

"I'm here to talk to you about Tony Stark, Mr. Cooper," Bucky replied.

Cooper's expression remained impressively blank — as if he'd never even heard the name before — but Bucky noticed the slight tightening of his shoulders. He could see what was coming long before Cooper actually moved.

Unlike so many before him, Cooper didn't try to deny his involvement in Tony's death. He did, however, try to run, which was just as bad.

The split second after Cooper had turned and sprinted for the door, Bucky was on his feet. Without hesitation he grabbed the heavy desk lamp, ripped off the cord, and threw the light fixture across the room. The lamp hit Cooper square in the back and he fell to the floor with a _thud_ and a half-choked shout of pain. Bucky kicked the stylish office desk out of his way, not caring that it toppled over — the glass top cracking — and sauntered over to Cooper.

"Oh God, no please. Don't—" The words cut off when Bucky stomped his foot down onto the man's back, not hard enough to break his ribs, but certainly succeeding in knocking the breath out him.

"I have some questions," Bucky said calmly.

Cooper was gasping for breath, struggling underneath the weight of Bucky's heavy boot. "I don't—" He swallowed, his voice trembling, fingers digging into the expensive carpet. "Please. Who are you?"

Bucky wasn't stupid enough to reply. He might not care all that much about his own safety, but he still wanted to protect Steve and the other Avengers. No one could know that Bucky had gone rogue, so he had made sure to cover up both his face and metal arm.

He lifted his boot and with a swift, ruthless kick got Cooper flat on his back instead. While Bucky doubted Cooper's ability to fight back — he looked like the kind of rich, confident, white man who had never felt physically threatened enough to attend a self-defense class — Bucky decided not to take any chances. He straddled Cooper, pinning his arms to the ground with his knees. A knife found its way into Bucky's hand almost on pure reflex.

"Please, please don't kill me!" Cooper pleaded, close to hyperventilating.

Bucky leaned forward, pressing the knife against Cooper's throat. "That depends on how much I like the answers you're about to give me."

Cooper swallowed, his eyes wide with fear. "I don't know anything! I swear!"

"You know _something_ ," Bucky replied. "Graham Turner assured me that you did."

"Oh God. It's you. You're the one who—"

"Tony Stark," Bucky interrupted, not interested in hearing what he had done. "What do you know about the explosion at the Avengers Tower?"

Cooper was doing a fairly admirable job of trying to fight back the panic, Bucky had to admit, and he seemed to understand that talking was his best option by far. "I didn't know. I swear, I had no idea. I didn't know what it was for!"

Bucky gritted his teeth. " _What_ did you _do_?"

"I was approached, anonymously. I— I think it was a man, but I don't know. They distorted their voice whenever we spoke over the phone." Cooper swallowed again, his breaths rapid and shallow. "They wanted... they needed something delivered to Stark's workshop. And I— I have a spy. On the inside."

Bucky's stomach clenched. He had always known that an insider job was probably the only way to get a bomb past JARVIS, but it still hurt to hear. That someone would betray them — someone working for Tony and the Avengers — would never not be painful.

"I don't even know how they found out that I have someone inside the building." Cooper licked his lips. "My spy is only there to gather information. That's all. But, after D.C., I figured she's not as useful anymore, so I could take some risks. This person was willing to pay a large sum of money—"

"After D.C.?" Realization began to dawn, Bucky's chest constricting. There was only one reason why Cooper's spy would no longer be needed after what had happened in D.C. Bucky could barely breathe around the crushing weight of memories — the torture, the experiments, the missions, the _chair_. "You're HYDRA," he whispered.

Cooper shook his head. "No!" he denied, the fear in his eyes growing stronger. "No, I just gave them information! I never—"

"The spy," Bucky snarled. "Give me a name, and tell me what she did."

"Yuko Kagawa. She— she made sure a package made it past the security checks and to Stark's workshop. Disguised as spare parts." Cooper was deathly pale. "I didn't know it was a bomb!"

Bucky growled, pressing the knife harder against Cooper's throat. "What the _fuck_ did you think it would be? A box of chocolates?"

Cooper obviously had no reply to that, a panicked sob slipping past his lips. "Please, please don't hurt me. You said you wouldn't kill me if I answered your questions!"

Bucky tilted his head to the side. "Did I really?"

He reached out with his free hand and sank his fingers into Cooper's hair. With a sharp tug he bared Cooper's throat and allowed the tip of his knife to trail along his skin, eliciting a hiss of pain from the man.

"As far as I remember," Bucky continued calmly, leaning closer, "I said I wouldn't kill you depending on how much I liked the answers you gave me."

There was no reply from Cooper, his eyes squeezed shut in fear, his breaths rapid.

Bucky lowered his voice to a whisper. "And, guess what?" he said, right next to Cooper's ear, the knife pressing hard enough to draw blood. "I didn't like them one bit."

Cooper whimpered.

"JARVIS," Bucky said, "send Steve the name of Cooper's spy." The only confirmation he got was a soft chime from his phone, the screen remaining unchanged. It worried him that JARVIS seemed to speak less and less, but at least he was still there, a constant companion and ally to rely on.

Bucky sighed and placed his phone on the nightstand before running a hand through his hair, still wet from his shower.

As much as Bucky would have liked to deal with Ms. Kagawa himself, he was reluctant to head back to New York when he had other trails to follow. Besides, Bucky could acknowledge that Kagawa was, in the great scheme of things, not the one responsible. She had helped deliver the bomb, yes, but she had probably known even less about what the package contained than Cooper. She should be apprehended and held accountable for her actions, yes, but Steve could handle that — he was good at that sort of thing.

Bucky walked over to the desk tucked away in the corner of his hotel room, absently shifting through the photos and papers strewn across it. While the information he'd gotten from Cooper seemed reliable — JARVIS _did_ have records of a Yuko Kagawa working at the tower — there were still so many pieces missing.

JARVIS had, unsurprisingly, not been able to find any emails or logged phone calls between Cooper and the mystery bomber, but there might be something in Cooper's finances. The money he'd been paid for the delivery of the bomb had to have come from somewhere and maybe, with some luck, JARVIS could trace the transaction — as soon as he found it within the veritable jungle of bank accounts that Cooper had owned.

It was frustrating to know that Cooper had only been a means to an end for whoever had planted that bomb, and that he'd known very little about the person behind it all.

Bucky still didn't have answers.

A low, humming buzz made Bucky look up; his phone was vibrating on the nightstand. He walked over, not the least bit surprised to see Steve's name flash across the screen. Steve's stubbornness knew no bounds and he called at least once a day, even if Bucky had never answered.

Bucky grabbed his phone, weighing the pros and cons. He wasn't keen on another lecture, but it _would_ be nice to talk to someone other than JARVIS for once. After a heavy sigh, he swiped to accept the call.

"Yeah?"

There was a stunned silence on the other end. While Steve clearly refused to stop calling, he must not have expected Bucky to actually pick up.

"Bucky..." It was difficult to identify the mix of emotions in Steve's voice, but Bucky would guess on relief, frustration, and despair. He could almost hear Steve swallow. "Is it true? About the spy?"

That probably wasn't what Steve truly wanted to ask about and Bucky admired him for his show of restraint. Had their roles been reversed, Bucky would either have started yelling at Steve for leaving, or pleading with him to come back.  
  
"Yeah," Bucky replied, turning back to the papers spread out on the hotel desk. "Her employer confirmed it."

Steve remained silent for several long, agonizing seconds.

"Christopher Cooper?" Steve eventually asked, his voice frailer than Bucky had heard in a long time.

Bucky knew better than to lie; Steve had a tendency to see right through him.

"Yes."

Steve sucked in a sharp breath. "Bucky, you—"

"He was HYDRA, Steve," Bucky interrupted. He had to admit that he was impressed by how quickly Steve had found out — Bucky had left Cooper's office only five hours earlier — but it wouldn't be enough to catch him. Bucky was long gone.

"That doesn't change the fact that you killed him!" Steve snapped. "You've been teetering on the edge ever since you left on this insane crusade of yours, getting more and more violent, and now you've actually _murdered_ someone!"

"How many Nazis have _you_ killed, Steve?" Bucky shot back, his tone flat. "Or, better yet, how many have you sent _me_ to kill? You never complained during the war. Back then I followed _your_ orders, slitting throats and doling out headshots on _your_ command."

" _Jesus_ , Bucky." Steve sounded pained. "That was _war_. This is different!"

Bucky sighed, more tired than angry. "I know it is. I know you don't approve." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the wayward strands out of his eyes. "I've been tryin' not to hurt them too badly, but this one..." Bucky clenched his teeth against the rush of nausea — the flashes of memories from his years with HYDRA. "He wasn't an innocent."

"That doesn't give you the right to be his executioner!" Steve exclaimed. His voice was full of desperation when he continued. "Bucky, _please_. You've gone too far. If you don't stop, you know I'll have to come after you. I can't let you run amok like this."

Bucky knew. He was well aware that he was pushing Steve further and further away with his actions. As much as he wanted revenge on whoever had killed Tony, the thought of losing Steve always made him hesitate, if only for a couple of seconds.

He didn't want to lose Steve too, but he wasn't sure what else to do. Someone had to pay.

"I'll try not to kill anyone else," Bucky offered.

"You know that's not what I meant," Steve replied. "You have to stop. Please, just come home."

There was only one problem with that.

"It's not home without Tony," Bucky said, trying to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. "And they took him from me. I can't turn a blind eye to that. I just can't." He let out a trembling breath. "I'm sorry if that means you'll consider me your enemy, but I have to do this. I have to finish this. I'm sorry, Steve."

"Bucky, wait—"

Bucky hung up.

Steve kept calling, every day, but Bucky knew better than to pick up the phone again.

He stopped listening to the voicemails too.

Bucky was at a random motel in the middle of Texas when the grief finally caught up with him. He didn't want it to. He'd been running from it for several weeks now, and he'd had every intention of continuing along the same path for as long as physically possible.

Had it not been for the tie, he probably would have managed.

Like always, Bucky brought his saddlebags with him when he checked into his room for the night. He was rummaging around inside one of them, searching for a pen, when his fingers suddenly brushed against something soft and silky at the bottom of the bag. He frowned and pulled it out, his heart lurching when he recognized the red silk tie.

Tony's tie.

Bucky knew exactly how it had ended up in his saddlebag.

It had been about three weeks into their relationship when Bucky had _finally_ been able to convince Tony to come for a ride on his motorcycle. They hadn't gone far — just to a nearby park — but Bucky had been grinning like a fool the entire time. Tony had mostly complained about the stifling weather, his three-piece suit too warm for a sunny day in July.

Ever so helpful, Bucky had reeled him in by his tie and — in between soft, heartfelt kisses — eased Tony out of his suit jacket, vest, and, finally, the tie itself. The sight of Tony in that park, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbow and the two topmost buttons undone, smiling behind his sunglasses, had left Bucky completely mesmerized. Tony had looked relaxed and carefree in a way he wasn't allowed very often, and that bright, sunny day in the park was easily one of Bucky's most treasured memories.

He'd had no idea that the tie had been left behind in one of his saddlebags.

A lump grew in Bucky's throat as he ran his thumb over the smooth, silky fabric. The tie shimmered in the soft light coming from the lamp on the bedside table, the moon shut out by the pulled curtains. Bucky stumbled to sit down on the bed, his legs too weak to carry him.

He stared at the tie in his hands, his fingers trembling.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was masochism or hope that made him close his eyes, raise the tie to his nose, and take a deep breath. There was a hint of gasoline, motor oil, and the soft, round smell of leather but, beneath that, Bucky found the scent he would recognize anywhere — the one he had been deprived of for weeks.

It smelled like Tony.

The grief slammed into him with enough force to leave him reeling. Nothing could have prepared him for what it would feel like to smell Tony after so long — to find a piece of him that Bucky had thought lost forever. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes, not wanting to break the spell.

It smelled like Tony.

For a split second, Bucky was closer to him than he had been in weeks. With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend Tony was still there, just out of sight. But he knew that wasn't possible. Tony was gone, and whatever small fragment of him Bucky now held in his hands would never compare to the real thing.

He'd lost him.

Bucky's breath hitched, his eyes burning from the rising tears, and, just like that, he broke. There was nothing holding back the pain and despair anymore.

His fingers closed around the tie, squeezing tighter than he probably should have, while big, heaving sobs wracked through him. The grief was impossible to stop once it had sunk its claws into him. It all came rushing to the surface — weeks of missing Tony and regretting what he had done, knowing that he had caused Tony harm when all Bucky wanted was to make him happy. Bucky cried until he could barely breathe for how tight his throat was, the air whistling in and out of his lungs.

Once he had started, it felt like Bucky might never stop crying.

He clung to the tie like a lifeline, even if he knew it was everything but that. It would become another haunting relic for his collection of memories — a small piece of the man Bucky had lost and would never get back. The man he would never be able to let go of.

In that moment, Bucky didn't care. He was too focused on the silky fabric twisted between his fingers and the long-lost scent of the man he loved. Right then and there, nothing else mattered.

For now, he succumbed to the grief.

Bucky frowned at the papers spread out on top of the Formica table, nudging his empty plate aside to get more room. The diner was busy around him, truckers laughing and the staff calling out orders, but none of them paid him any mind. Visiting retro diners was quite bittersweet, making him miss the good old days, but he couldn't deny that he appreciated the atmosphere.

He tapped his finger against the table, then reached for the stack of files to his left.

"JARVIS, I need some information," he said, knowing the AI could hear him through the subtle earpiece he was wearing. Bucky got an odd look from the old man two tables over, but ignored him.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?" came the reply.

"AIM." Bucky shuffled through the files until he found the one containing a list of employees Stark Industries had fired based on their psych evaluations. "They're not actually gone, are they? The reports said Aldrich Killian was the leader for the think tank, but it didn't collapse entirely without him, did it?"

"No, Sergeant Barnes, others stepped in to take charge. Though they have been lying low ever since the Mandarin was exposed." JARVIS was a little more chatty than usual, which Bucky took as a good sign.

"Could you find me a list of AIM employees?"

"Just a moment, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky had to admit that the repetitive 'Sergeant Barnes' had gotten old really fast, but that was how JARVIS spoke now, and he knew pointing it out wouldn't help. They all grieved in their own way.

"Do you suspect they are responsible?" Having JARVIS ask a question was rare nowadays, and Bucky remained silent for a full two seconds out of sheer surprise.

"No," he replied once he'd gathered his wits, "but I think someone might have used their resources. I still think this is personal, but a lone bomber would've had a hard time findin' the components for such a sophisticated bomb — or the money to pay off Mr. Cooper." Bucky placed the list of fired SI employees on the table in front of him. "Also, they'd have to have considerable computer skills to find the video of Howard and Maria being murdered _and_ cover their tracks well enough that not even you can trace their emails."

JARVIS, being the clever AI that he was, figured it out all on his own. "Do you want me to cross reference the list of AIM employees with those who have been fired from Stark Industries, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky grinned. "That's exactly what I want you to do, JARVIS." He drummed his fingers against the row of names in front of him. "Then," he added, "I want you to tell me if any of those were fired based on their psych evals or poor behavior. I want a list of people who might harbor a grudge and be unstable enough to act on it."

"Just a moment, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS replied.

Anyone who had qualified to work for Tony would have both considerable computer skills and — if JARVIS looked back to the time when SI was still making weapons — know how to make a bomb. Depending on the circumstances that led them to be fired, they could easily hold a grudge against Tony and Stark Industries.

"Sergeant Barnes, the list is complete."

Bucky let out a slow breath, desperately hoping he was on the right track. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this. The grief was weighing heavily on him by now, the scarlet tie placed carefully amongst the rest of Bucky's meager belongings. He'd brought it out three times since he'd found it, even if it hurt more each time. He could bear it, though, for the brief glimpse of Tony it offered.

He would do what it took to avenge Tony.

"Show me the list," Bucky said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so, so bad for Bucky. And Steve. It's not easy for anyone right now. I'm not entirely sure why I end up writing so many stories involving grief, but I hope I do it justice.
> 
> And yes, this is a bit of a surprise chapter. My lovely beta, [Snnaaft](https://snnaaft.tumblr.com/), was able to finish the last couple of chapters so I'm going to be updating twice a week now! Whoop! So you won't have to wait quite as long to know what happens next!


	4. Kill

 

* * *

 

The list of former SI employees who had been hired by AIM was suspiciously long, as if Aldrich Killian had wanted to take as many pieces of Tony as he could and twist them into his own image. The list of _possible suspects_ amongst those employees was, however, much shorter. It took a specific kind of person to subject someone to blackmail — not to mention be willing and able to kill for their beliefs.

In the end, Bucky was left with four names. It felt bizarre that one of them might be responsible for Tony's death. They were seemingly regular people; they had no superpowers and weren't trained assassins. It was just so odd to think that instead of succumbing to some supervillain's evil scheme, Tony might have been killed by a vengeful former employee.

Bucky, with the help of JARVIS, soon managed to narrow down the list even further.

Samar Rahim, while having been fired six years ago due to mental instability, had since received a diagnosis and medication and was now living happily with his wife and child. He didn't even warrant a visit, especially since he had left AIM shortly after Killian had been revealed as the Mandarin.

Paul Newman was also free of guilt on account of having died in a car accident the year before, where he had been driving under the influence of both alcohol and drugs.

Sofia Vasquez, on the other hand, was more promising. She had also quit AIM a while back and now worked as a programmer for a company that manufactured satellite equipment, meaning that she definitely had the technical know-how to perform the blackmail. But, as Bucky watched her go about her daily life, he concluded that she probably wasn't the bomber. She was a psychopath for sure, with very little empathy despite her seemingly supportive smiles and idle chitchat with her colleagues, but not a murderer. She looked content, in fact. Whatever slight she had suffered when she was fired from SI didn't seem to bother her anymore.

That only left Karl Henderson. Bucky couldn't be sure if this was the man responsible — the idea of investigating AIM employees might be a wild-goose chase — but he certainly seemed capable, at least on paper. Henderson had been one of SI's weapon designers but was fired when his ideas became too radical and cruel — which was saying something. JARVIS managed to dig up an old blog Henderson had apparently been writing for, both during and after his time with SI, and Bucky was, to say the least, disturbed by the content. Mr. Henderson was paranoid, angry, fiercely patriotic, and preached hate with a narrow-mindedness that was almost impressive in its stupidity. He was the kind of man that Steve would argue had no right to call himself American, even if his country was what Henderson seemed most fixated on protecting.

Karl Henderson had the skills, the motive, and was extremely volatile, as was clearly seen in the infuriated posts he'd written about capitalism and Stark Industries in particular, shortly after he had been fired. Each mention of Tony's name was laced with anger, as if he was the sole reason for everything that was wrong with the world, and there were a couple of mentions of 'making Stark pay' for what he had done.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, staring at his computer screen with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You think it's him?" he asked JARVIS.

"He is the most likely suspect out of the individuals you have questioned," JARVIS replied. It wasn't a yes, but probably as close to one as JARVIS would be willing to offer at the moment.

Bucky exhaled, feeling a focused calm settle over him. "Find out more about him. If he's responsible, he must have left a trail somewhere."

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS replied. "Anything else?"

Bucky weighed his options but decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Find out where he lives," he said. "Just in case."

It didn't take long before JARVIS provided Bucky with information about a bank account Henderson had set up five years prior. The money in it came from AIM — possibly embezzled — and had been used to send a rather significant sum to none other than the late Christopher Cooper.

As far as Bucky was concerned, that was all the proof he needed.

Bucky sat at the foot of his motel bed, elbows braced against his knees and eyes staring unseeing at the floor. In the past couple of weeks, he'd stayed in so many different hotel and motel rooms that they'd started blurring together. Or maybe he'd simply been too focused on the chase to notice the décor.

There was a thick tension in the air — expectation mingling with a hint of apprehension — and Bucky couldn't quite say if it was good or bad. He was waiting for the hours to pass, each minute bringing him closer to his inevitable meeting with Karl Henderson.

Bucky's phone was in his hand and he kept turning it over and over and over again. Fidgeting wasn't something Bucky was prone to, but not even he was immune to feeling nervous. It wasn't the prospect of facing Henderson that got him on edge, though, but rather what was on his phone.

The photos he still hadn't found the strength to look at.

The room was silent around him. Everything Bucky had — the printed-out papers he'd used for his research, his laptop, his clothes — was already packed into his saddlebags, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway after visiting Henderson. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Bucky let out a slow breath and looked down at his phone. Before he had time to change his mind, he opened his photo album and clicked on the first picture.

Tony's smiling face appeared on the screen.

Bucky's chest clenched, but he didn't look away. He couldn't. While he _had_ watched the surveillance video several times in the past weeks, this was different. Here Tony was smiling at the camera, his eyes sparkling with fondness — probably because Bucky was the one who had taken the picture. Tony looked so happy.

With a swipe of his thumb Bucky moved on to the next picture. And the next. And the next. He looked through his entire gallery, the minutes slipping away. Once he reached the end, he started over.

Not all of the pictures were of Tony — Steve and the rest of the Avengers made regular appearances — but Bucky always lingered on the ones where Tony was the main focus. There was one from their trip to the park where Tony stood relaxed and smiling, hands in his pockets and hair ruffled from the breeze.

There was another that Bucky had taken two months before their breakup, when he'd woken up to the sight of Tony bathed in sunlight, practically _glowing_. Tony had looked so soft and beautiful that morning that Bucky's heart _ached_ and — after some grumbling — Tony had allowed Bucky to take a picture. The contented look on Tony's face, his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and his gaze warm with fondness, still took Bucky's breath away.

Tony had been so beautiful.

Bucky continued to stare at the photos until JARVIS's careful voice tore him back to the present.

"Sergeant Barnes, it is time."

Bucky swallowed and quickly wiped away the tears. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been crying.

"Yeah, okay," he replied, voice hoarse.

Bucky knew killing Henderson wouldn't help — it certainly wouldn't bring Tony back — but at least he'd know that Henderson had paid for what he'd done.

When it came to people hurting those he loved, Bucky had never been particularly forgiving.

The moment Bucky slipped in through Mr. Henderson's living room window, the earpiece he was wearing began to crackle.

"Serge— Barnes, I cannot— something interfering with—"

Bucky only heard about half of JARVIS's words, but he got the gist of it.

"It's okay," he replied. "I'll be fine on my own."

Perhaps he should have been more concerned when faced with such an obvious sign of a trap, but Bucky was too far gone to care about his own safety. It would take a lot to kill him — especially when he had a job he was determined to finish.

He soundlessly made his way through the unlit room, navigating around the dark silhouettes of various pieces of furniture. The place was a bit of a mess, clothes strewn about and dirty dishes on the tables. According to his file, Henderson had had a wife and son at one point, but they were no longer a part of the man's life. Once Henderson's rhetoric had gotten too violent — and he had started bringing some of that violence home with him — she had filed for a divorce and, unsurprisingly, won custody of their son. To Bucky's relief, she had a much happier life now with a new husband and a third kid on the way.

As he moved through the house, Bucky could admit that he didn't have much of a plan in mind — more of a general goal. Karl Henderson would _not_ leave the house alive, but how he met his demise didn't really matter. Bucky was flexible.

He heard Henderson coming long before the man showed himself, but chose to pretend that he didn't. Bucky was heading for the stairs — intentionally leaving his back unprotected — when a gun cocked behind him. He stopped in his tracks and a flashlight clicked on a couple of beats later, causing long, sharp shadows to stretch along the barren walls.

"Hands where I can see them."

Bucky obediently raised his hands, knowing the metal of his left had to be gleaming in the harsh light. He hadn't bothered to wear gloves or cover his face this time — there was no point.

A drawn-out silence followed, Bucky waiting for the next command.

"Turn around." The man's voice was rushed now — almost giddy.

Again, Bucky did as told, his eyes narrowing slightly when forced to face the flashlight. It was a neat trick — Bucky couldn't see much of Henderson aside for a vague silhouette, giving the man a clear advantage.

"I knew you'd come." That was definitely excitement in Henderson's voice, which wasn't the emotion Bucky had expected to hear, he had to admit. "I've been following your progress. You did a pretty good job of tracking me."

There wasn't much Bucky could or wanted to reply to that. He wasn't pleased to hear that Henderson had seen him coming, but couldn't say that he was surprised, either. If the man had managed to sneak a bomb into the Avengers Tower, finding Bucky probably wasn't all that difficult — especially not when Bucky had been shaking down Henderson's associates, one after the other. Henderson had no doubt noticed the pattern.

"You're here about Stark, I'm guessing?" While Bucky still couldn't make out Henderson's facial expression, there was no mistaking the condescension in the man's voice. "Not that I understand why. He got what he deserved."

For the first time since entering Henderson's house, Bucky felt a stir of something other than absolute calm. He pushed the anger down, knowing it wouldn't help him — not yet, at least.

"Why did he deserve it?" Bucky asked.

As expected, Henderson immediately launched into a tirade very similar to those Bucky had read on his blog. The man was all too eager to tell everyone about his opinions, even if they incriminated him.

"He was a selfish bastard, that's why! I don't blame him for making weapons — we need to do what we can to keep our boys out there safe — but when he starts preying on innocent people here back home? I can't stand for that." Henderson was practically spitting out the words, contempt lacing every syllable. "He ruined my life! When he fired me, my wife left me and that fucking bitch—"

"Actually, she filed for a divorce before you were fired." Bucky spoke calmly despite wanting nothing more than to smash Henderson's face in. The man was pathetic.

"That doesn't matter! After he fired me, I couldn't get another job for two years. That was his fault! If it hadn't been for that fucking psych eval I—"

"You _do_ realize he didn't fire you personally, right?" Bucky interrupted. "That's what the human resources department is for. _They_ made the decision—"

Bucky fell silent at the loud bang of a gunshot and felt the bullet whistle past his left ear. He didn't move, hands still held aloft and gaze focused on the faint silhouette in front of him.

"Shut up! It was Stark's company! His fault!" Henderson snapped. "They said my designs were _inhumane_ , but this is _war_! We have to do whatever it takes to protect ourselves. I only want what's best for my country!"

Perhaps it was best to change the subject.

"So you did it?" Bucky was pretty sure he didn't need a confession at this point, but he wanted to make sure. He wanted to hear Henderson say it. "The blackmailing and planting the bomb."

"Oh, you bet I did," Henderson replied proudly. There was no mistaking the smile in his voice. "He always thought he was so fucking smart — bragged about being a prodigy and a genius — but _I_ bested him! How's that for justice?"

It wasn't even _close_ to justice, but Bucky chose not to comment.

"And me breaking up with him?"

Henderson laughed. "An eye for an eye. He took my wife, so I took his... well, whatever the fuck you were supposed to be. I did you a favor, really, saving you from a life of sin. That relationship wasn't natural." It was difficult to tell with the flashlight shining into Bucky's eyes, but it looked like Henderson was beginning to relax, convinced that he held the advantage. "I wanted him to die miserable and alone — and he did."

Bucky gritted his teeth and it was only through sheer willpower that he didn't clench his hands and lash out. He didn't want to be reminded of how Tony had died — that the last real conversation between them had been about their breakup.

After a slow, calming breath Bucky asked one of the questions he still hadn't been able to answer. "Why did you wait until the rest of the team had left?" Usually, those looking for revenge didn't care who got caught in the crossfire, but the fact that the other Avengers hadn't been at the tower couldn't have been a coincidence.

"I didn't want to hurt the captain. Or you," Henderson replied, his tone suggesting that the answer should have been obvious. "You two have fought for our country and should be honored for the sacrifices you've made. You're heroes — _super soldiers_."

If Bucky hadn't already been convinced that Henderson was out of his mind, he certainly was now. Bucky was also _very_ pissed off, but Henderson didn't seem to notice — or perhaps he didn't care.

"You're the height of American ingenuity!" Henderson sounded far too eager. "Proof of our superiority! In comparison, that bastard Stark was nothing but a coward. He was a _disgrace_ , not a hero, and I did everyone a favor by exposing him for the lying bastard that he truly is! You and the captain, though — you're what makes America the best country in the world."

Bucky had heard enough.

"Actually," he cut in, just as Henderson took a breath to continue his rant, "you should check your facts — I'm made in Russia."

Before Henderson had time to reply — or react in any other way — Bucky had reached for the knife strapped to his thigh. With a swift sweep of his arm it sailed through the air, shattering the flashlight in Henderson's hand. Darkness enveloped the room yet again, abrupt and ruthless, and Henderson spat out a foul curse.

Bucky didn't waste time. He dropped low and dodged the three uncoordinated shots Henderson managed to squeeze off — not being able to see clearly didn't help the man's aim — and, in a matter of seconds, had come close enough to grab Henderson's arm and twist the gun out of his hand. Without hesitation, Bucky rammed his elbow into the man's face, making him crash to the floor with a pained grunt.

Bucky looked down at the man at his feet and calmly tossed the gun aside. His heartbeats echoed loud but firm in his chest, his breaths slow and steady. The anger was another matter. He could feel it surging, mingling with the desire for vengeance; knowing that someone so despicable had been the cause of Tony's death made Bucky _furious_.

He crouched down and grabbed Henderson's collar, yanking him closer. Without the flashlight it was easier to see Henderson's features, except maybe the part of his face covered in blood from his injured nose.

"You've got this all wrong," Bucky hissed, metal fingers clenching Henderson's collar tight enough to cut off his air supply. Henderson scrambled to loosen Bucky's grip, but Bucky held firm. "Tony was one of the bravest, sweetest, and kindest people I've ever known. He would lay down his life to save another — even someone as pathetic as you — and you... you killed him."

Something lodged in Bucky's throat and he had a hard time swallowing it down, his chest tight with emotion. He loosened his grip just enough for Henderson to suck in a panicked, wheezing breath.

"You took him from me," Bucky continued, voice hard. " _You_ did this."

"Fuck you!" Henderson spat, but he sounded less confident now, unarmed and bleeding. "You're a fucking disgrace to the American—"

Bucky punched him, feeling nothing but satisfaction when Henderson's head snapped back from the force of the blow. Another sharp tug on Henderson's collar forced the man to look at Bucky again.

"Pay attention, Mr. Henderson," Bucky drawled. "I'm made in Russia — and we do things quite differently there." He felt a smile spread on his lips, but he knew it held no joy whatsoever. " _Tony_ was the kind one, not me. _He_ might have insisted on sparing your life, but since he's not here anymore, well — I'm pretty sure you can guess what happens next."

Panic was beginning to creep into Henderson's voice. "No, wait, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did!" Bucky snarled, his anger flaring. " _You killed him_. This is _all_ thanks to you, and I sure as _fuck_ hope you're proud of yourself. Every last bit of pain that awaits you is your own goddamned fault because _you took him from me_." Bucky gritted his teeth against the surge of grief, struggling to form words. He could feel himself cracking, his metal hand whirring as he tightened his grip around Henderson's collar. Bucky could barely breathe with so many emotions whirling inside of him — so much pain begging to be set free.

"This," he whispered, low and hoarse, "is what happens when you hurt someone I love, and I am going to enjoy every last second of it."

"Wait—"

Henderson's attempt at another plea was cut off by Bucky's next blow, much harder than the first. He knew there would be no going back from this — he might have been able to blame Mr. Cooper's death on him being a HYDRA spy, but this was different. Steve would never forgive Bucky for killing a civilian. A murdering psychopath, sure, but a civilian nonetheless. Someone who should be charged for his crimes and be sent to prison or, perhaps, a mental institution.

Bucky didn't care. This man had killed Tony — he had to pay.

The third blow came even more easily than the second, as if Bucky had finally let go off the last of his doubts. He allowed the rage to take over, blurring out everything but the man beneath him.

The fourth blow was pure joy.

The fifth was sweet, blessed relief.

The sixth, however, never came.

It took Bucky a second to even realize why. Something was gripping his raised arm, holding it in place and stopping him from following through on the intended movement. Bucky twisted, a frustrated snarl growing in his chest, but promptly froze in shock when he came face to face with the glowing eyes of the Iron Man armor. There was blood on Bucky's knuckles, dark smudges against his pale skin, and red metal fingers wrapped like a vice around his right wrist.  
  
Bucky couldn't breathe. During one heart-stopping second he almost dared to believe this had all been a horrible, gut-wrenching dream — that everything was fine and Tony was still alive — but then he remembered that JARVIS could control the armor.

Bucky swallowed down the flare of hope, his heart breaking. "JARVIS, let me—"

"No, Bucky, that's enough."

It sounded like Tony. The voice coming from the suit sounded just like Tony and Bucky had to suck in a sharp, panicked breath, trying to keep the grief at bay. He could feel tears burning.

"JARVIS, please, don't do this to me. I c-can't—"

The helmet folded back, revealing a face Bucky knew better than his own — the one face he'd thought he'd never get to see again.

It wasn't possible. Tony was dead.

"Bucky, stop," Tony said, voice soft. His eyes were dark and sad in the light of the arc reactor — Bucky would know those eyes anywhere.

It was Tony. Not the pale ghost Bucky had gotten used to seeing on the surveillance video or the pieces he'd collected to form a fractured imitation of the man. This was the real Tony.

 _His_ Tony.

"You have to stop," Tony repeated, urgent yet gentle.

Bucky took another trembling breath, the anger draining out of him in a matter of seconds. He lowered his arm, clinging to the familiarity the found in Tony's gaze, and did as told.

He stopped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand cliffhanger! I know a lot of you have been waiting for this moment and I'm afraid you're going to have to wait just a little bit longer before finding out just how Tony survived! But only until Tuesday ;)
> 
> The chapter is a little later than usual because I've been running around like crazy all day cleaning and fixing things. I'm getting married tomorrow, you see, and there are still some small things to take care of. But I managed to snag enough time to upload this at least. Enjoy, my lovelies!


	5. Live

 

* * *

 

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, spine stiff, and tried to remember how to breathe. His head was spinning with questions but he barely had time to latch on to one before his thoughts flitted away again, out of reach.

Tony was alive. Bucky didn't know how, but Tony was alive.

Bucky was still dazed from the shock, not sure what to feel. He'd ended up following Tony's stern directions, leaving Henderson's house — after Tony had assured him he'd handle the situation — and returning to wait for Tony at the motel. Bucky had protested, of course, but had eventually done as he was told. Now he realized he should have insisted on staying. Sitting there waiting for Tony made Bucky feel more lost and helpless than he had in _weeks_. Even after Tony's death he'd had a purpose — his need for vengeance had urged him forward.

He wasn't sure what he had now that Tony was back, or what to do.

Bucky realized he was shaking. There was blood on his hands — dry now — but he couldn't find the energy to wash it off. As soon as he'd reached his motel room, he had sat down on the bed and not been able to rise again.

Tony was alive.

Bucky tried to breathe, but something had lodged in his throat, making it a lot harder than it should have been.

He wasn't sure how much time passed — it felt like hours, but was probably closer to forty minutes — before there was a knock on the door. Bucky flinched at the sound, his stomach clenching from equal parts hope and dread. Tony didn't wait for a reply from Bucky before entering. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and just the mere sight of him made Bucky's breath catch, his heartbeats echoing in his ears.

"Tony..." he croaked, still not entirely sure if he dared to believe this was real.

Even if it wasn't, Bucky couldn't let the opportunity pass him by. He stumbled to his feet, unusually uncoordinated in his haste to reach out for Tony, to pull him into his arms and just _hold him_ for the first time in _weeks_. Thankfully, Tony rushed to meet him when Bucky nearly lost his balance.

"Whoa there! Hey, be careful." Tony's palms were warm against Bucky's chest, too firm to be Bucky's imagination.

A choked whimper slipped past Bucky's lips.

Tony was real.

Without a word, Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony and pulled him close. He pushed back the hood and buried his nose in Tony's hair, taking a deep breath. Tony smelled just like Bucky remembered, and he couldn't hold back a relieved sob.

"It's okay." Tony sounded awkward, but his arms soon circled Bucky's waist, hugging back. "Everything's fine. Just breathe."

Bucky started crying instead, desperately clinging to Tony.

"You're alive," he mumbled in between sobs. "Thank _God_ you're alive."

"Yeah, I'm alive," Tony replied, the words whispered against Bucky's ear. One of Tony's hands was rubbing soothingly along Bucky's back, and he didn't protest against how tightly Bucky was hugging him; it had to be bordering on painful.

Eventually, Bucky pulled back, just enough to frame Tony's face with his hands, his thumb caressing Tony's cheek bone. Those wonderful brown eyes looked back up at him and Bucky felt a surge of joy. He let out a half-choked laugh, not even caring that he still had tears running down his face.

Tony was alive — that was all that mattered.

It was when Bucky leaned down for a kiss that reality came crashing back down. Bucky was so overcome by relief that he hadn't even stopped to consider what he was doing, but he was reminded of the line he was crossing when Tony decisively turned his face away. Bucky froze, heart stopping in his chest.

They weren't together anymore; Bucky had no right to kiss Tony.

Despite the wariness in his gaze, Tony didn't break out of Bucky's grip or take a step back, but it was obvious that he was displeased. His shoulders were stiff and there wasn't a single trace of a smile on his face, even though this should have been a happy moment.

Bucky swallowed and lowered his hands, trying to deny how much they were trembling. Breathing was difficult, his throat tight, but he managed to maintain eye contact — mostly out of desperation. He didn't dare to let Tony out of his sight, afraid that he might disappear the moment Bucky looked away.

"How?" he whispered, voice barely carrying the short distance between them. "How did you survive?"

Tony gave him a small smile, but it wasn't a particularly happy one. "I wasn't in the tower when the bomb went off," Tony replied simply. "I'm pretty insulted, to be honest. Did you really think I'd avoid my duties as an Avenger because you and I broke up?"

Bucky couldn't help frowning. "But... the surveillance video...?"

"The one you got from JARVIS?" Tony shrugged. "It was from another date. The week before, I think? I asked him to add the sudden cut and the effects at the end, to make it look more authentic."

The implications of that hit Bucky so suddenly he could only stare. He'd been so happy to see Tony alive that it hadn't even occurred to him that Tony must have had some part in that. No one had seen him in _weeks_.

"You faked your own death," Bucky said in a monotone.

Tony frowned and took a small but very noticeable step back. "Don't make it sound as if I planned it. Most of it was coincidence. I _couldn't_ come on the mission because I was nowhere near New York, but I didn't want Steve to know that I had snuck off for an impromptu pity vacation — he'd lecture me about responsibilities and keeping secrets from him." Tony gestured vaguely. "So I pretended to be in the workshop, even if I wasn't. I honestly had no idea it would blow up. If I _had_ known, I would've—"

Tony cut himself off and quickly shook his head, as if that would erase the creeping grief Bucky had heard in his voice. Bucky still knew what Tony had to be referring to.

He would have made sure to move the bots, to save them from being destroyed in the blast.

"Someone tried to kill me and I had to find out who," Tony picked up. He held his head high and his gaze was firm, as if he was preparing himself for an argument. "The best way to do that was to pretend that they had succeeded."

Bucky swallowed, feeling the hurt and anger rise. "But why didn't you tell me? I would have kept it a secret. And I could've helped—"

"Oh, I know you're good at keeping secrets. It's not that." Tony said the words too pointedly for them to be anything but an accusation. His gaze was colder than Bucky remembered it ever being — even during their fights as a couple. "I couldn't risk it. I knew you might be under surveillance."

While that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for most people, Bucky knew that couldn't be it. Tony was much too skilled to be caught by someone like Henderson — if Tony wanted to talk to you, he _always_ found a way. There had to be something else.

"I could have helped," Bucky said, voice low. "I was lookin' for the bomber too."

"Yeah, I noticed." The words were sharp enough to make Bucky flinch. Tony might not have raised his voice, but there was no doubt that Tony was mad at him.

That in itself was no surprise. Bucky knew Tony had several reasons to be angry — the fact that Bucky had dumped him without warning was one — but he wasn't sure if any of that made Bucky deserve _this_. To live on for weeks thinking Tony was dead. That required a cruelty that Bucky knew Tony wasn't capable of without a very good reason.

"What else?" Bucky asked, even if he dreaded the answer. "There's somethin' you're not tellin' me."

"That's rich, coming from you," Tony spat.

"What?"

A steady, creeping fear began to grow inside of Bucky, but he tried to push it down.

Tony gritted his teeth. "The first thing I did after getting the news about the bombing was to ask JARVIS to look through the system for possible leaks. He didn't find any, but he _did_ find some suspicious, untraceable emails."

Bucky's stomach dropped. Not that. Anything but that.

"You know I wouldn't usually read your private emails — you, and the rest of the Avengers, deserve your privacy — but JARVIS assured me it was important."

"Tony—"

"I know about the blackmail."

The room spun and Bucky had to hold back both nausea and a suffocating surge of guilt. He could feel tears burning but blinked them away, knowing he had no right to cry.

"Did you watch it?" he croaked, voice trembling.

"The video?" Tony's face looked eerily blank. "I've seen it, yeah."

Bucky turned away from Tony, hand sliding into his hair as he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. Tony knew. Even after everything Bucky had done to prevent it, Tony had found out from the video after all. He had tried _so hard_ to keep that from Tony — to spare him the pain.

While Tony had had every right to be mad at him before, now Bucky knew he should be grateful that Tony was even _talking_ to him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He hid his face in his hands, trying to cling to what little composure he had left. "I'm so sorry, Tony. Y-you shouldn't have had to see that. I'm—"

"Wait. You thought I didn't know?"

Bucky stiffened in surprise but didn't dare turn around, keeping his back to Tony. It felt safer, somehow. "What?" he asked, voice trembling.

"About my parents. You thought..." A hand grabbed Bucky's shoulder, forcing him to face Tony again. It was agonizingly hard to look into Tony's eyes and Bucky was surprised by the lack of disgust or anger. "Bucky, I've known for almost a year, since just after you moved in." Tony's gaze was as honest as his words. "You think someone like Henderson could find that video but I would somehow miss it?"

That made no sense. How could Tony have known for so long? He must have known before he and Bucky even became a couple.

"But... why would you..." Bucky swallowed, not knowing what to think. "Why did you kiss me?"

Why would Tony start a relationship with the man who had killed his parents?

Tony looked bewildered. "Why wouldn't I? I forgave you ages ago." He shrugged, but the nonchalance seemed rather forced. "I admit I didn't expect to fall in love with you after having seen that recording, but I'm not exactly known for being conventional. I honestly thought you were aware of me knowing, but that you just didn't want to talk about it."

Bucky's head was spinning, trying to make sense of everything. "But then why are you so angry?"

The stubborn set of Tony's jaw told Bucky he wouldn't be getting a reply that easily.

"It doesn't matter," Tony deflected, as always when faced with things like these. Tony so rarely wanted to admit to why he felt hurt and, bizarrely, fought even harder to keep it a secret if his feelings were justified.

"Of course it matters."

"No, Bucky, it doesn't. Just leave it. We don't—"

Bucky took a step closer. "Why, Tony?"

"Because you valued your reputation more than our relationship!" Tony snapped, raw and aching, his anger slipping just enough to show the hurt underneath. "I read the emails, okay? I know you dumped me to keep that video away from the media — to protect your reputation."

That couldn't be further from the truth. Bucky couldn't blame Tony for having reached that conclusion. If he'd only read the emails it would no doubt appear as if Bucky had put his own needs first — but that wasn't it at all. It might be one of his reasons, but certainly not the main one.

"Tony, no. _God_ no." Bucky shook his head and reached out before he could think better of it. Thankfully, Tony didn't shy away when Bucky cupped his cheek with his hand. "I thought... I didn't know you'd seen it. I thought you were gonna have to watch your parents get murdered on the morning news and I..." Bucky swallowed, somehow managing to push down the lump in his throat. "I was gonna tell you everything. I just had to find the blackmailer first. But Henderson got there before me, blowin' up the tower and then it was already too late and I just—"

Tony placed his hand over Bucky's mouth, stopping him short. The feel of Tony's skin against his lips — even just his palm — was enough to send a tingle down Bucky's spine. It had been so long. Tony opened his mouth as if to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He lowered his hand instead, and averted his gaze.

Bucky swallowed. "Tony, I love you."

Tony didn't reply. He took a step back, though, putting him well out of Bucky's reach, which broke his heart just as effectively. Panic was too small a word to describe what Bucky was feeling in that moment.

"Breakin' up with you was the hardest thing I've ever done." Bucky could hear his voice tremble. "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was buyin' myself time to find the blackmailer, but trust me when I say that I would never, ever have broken up with you if I'd had a choice. I love you."

"You could have told me," Tony shot back. He looked up at Bucky, jaws clenched in defiance. "About the blackmail. I know he threatened to reveal the video if you did, but we could have hidden it from him — he wouldn't have had to know."

There was a pang in Bucky's chest. He nodded. "Yeah, I could've. I _should_ have. I just... I was scared. I thought I'd lose you. No matter which option I chose, I ended up losin' you."

Tony sighed and ran a hand over his face. "So breaking up with me was the better option?" He sounded so defeated.

"No! I... I dunno." Bucky shook his head, the desperation returning. "Please, Tony. I'm so sorry."

A silence settled over the room and Bucky held his breath. Eventually, Tony gave another sigh, looking tired.

"I know you are," he said, voice low. "And so am I." He looked away, gaze skittering over the room. "I know... I know this hasn't been easy for you."

That was an understatement.

"JARVIS?" Bucky guessed. The AI was the only one who had been allowed to follow Bucky these past couple of weeks, and he could easily have reported back to Tony if asked. Bucky was less upset about the breach of privacy than he thought he would be, probably because it meant Tony still cared.

Tony nodded. "He kept an eye on you, as best he could. But half of the time he was busy helping me as well."

"How come he sounded so..." Bucky didn't finish the sentence, not entirely sure how to ask if the AI had been faking grief.

"Let's just say that he's a better actor than anyone would ever give him credit for," Tony said, of course understanding what Bucky was referring to. Tony gave Bucky a searching look. "I told him not to encourage you too much, but it wasn't until Cooper that I realized just how far gone you were." A small wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "Do you regret it?"

Bucky almost said yes, but he knew that would be a lie. He didn't regret what he had done, but he _did_ regret the fact that his actions might make Tony or Steve distance themselves from him.

He probably needed to work on that.

"No, I don't."

It didn't look like Tony was surprised by the reply. Aside from that, it was difficult to tell what Tony was thinking. He didn't look angry, but he certainly didn't seem happy, either.

"Well, you better not tell Steve that," Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze was firm. "It's only a matter of time before he shows up."

Bucky's stomach flipped but he knew better than to argue. There was no reason to keep running from Steve now — not when Tony was alive.

"What about Henderson?" he asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You beat him pretty badly, but he was still breathing. So I called for an ambulance — anonymously, obviously. According to JARVIS, Henderson has reached the hospital and is currently receiving care." Tony's expression was unsettlingly blank. "It shouldn't take Steve long to figure out it was your handiwork. He'll come, and I suggest both of us stay long enough for him to find us this time."

Bucky licked his lips and nodded. "Okay."

Tony's gaze was difficult to decipher. He still looked guarded, spine stiff and shoulders tense — he clearly hadn't forgiven Bucky yet. To be honest, Bucky hadn't expected him to, and decided to simply be happy that Tony was alive. The weeks he'd spent without him had been hell.

Tony sighed. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand, beckoning Bucky closer. "We better get that blood cleaned off or else Steve will throw a fit."

Bucky swallowed, almost too scared to accept the invitation — especially since his hands were two of the aforementioned things stained with blood. His need to touch Tony soon won out, however, and he took the hand Tony was offering. Tony's smile was frail around the edges, but he was trying — that was probably more than Bucky deserved at that point.

Tony pulled him closer, looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes of his, so vibrant and alive.

"I'm still mad," he said, voice soft in the intimate space created between them. "And I think we both need some time to think and settle down from this whole ordeal, but I still love you, okay? I don't want you to think I've somehow stopped loving you."

The lump was back in Bucky's throat and all he managed was a mute nod. Tears were burning behind his eyelids and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold them back this time.

Tony reached up and stroked Bucky's cheek. "And I'll forgive you. Eventually."

"Okay," Bucky replied hoarsely.

Truth be told, that was more than he could ever hope for.

Bucky would be lying if he said he didn't dread seeing Steve again. He didn't regret his decision to find Tony's assumed killer, but he _did_ regret the wedge it had put between him and Steve. Bucky had to face the fact that he might have lost his best friend, which hadn't even occurred to him as a possibility during the majority of his life.

To Bucky's surprise, Steve's first action was to hug him — he'd expected something along the lines of a telling off or even a punch to the face.

He wasn't stupid enough to think everything was fine, though. There was a tightness around Steve's eyes and his smile looked sad, but perhaps Bucky hadn't broken them beyond repair. Perhaps, with some work, Steve would be able to forgive him. Bucky was well aware that he might not deserve that kind of trust and devotion, but he was definitely grateful for Steve's kind nature.

"You really had me worried," Steve said, his hand squeezing Bucky's shoulder. There were clearly a lot of words that Steve chose not to speak, probably because a motel parking lot wasn't the ideal place for that conversation. "Please don't ever do that again."

Bucky managed a faint smile. "I'll try not to."

It probably wasn't the promise Steve wanted — or the one he deserved — but it was all Bucky could give at that moment. Steve didn't argue, thankfully enough, and instead gave Bucky a short nod.

Bucky cleared his throat. "There's one more thing..."

Steve frowned, visibly bracing himself for more bad news. "What?" he asked warily.

"I think you'd better see for yourself." Bucky gestured towards his motel room. He had no idea how Steve would react to Tony being alive, but they had decided it was better to do the reveal behind closed doors. "Come on," Bucky said.

To Bucky's relief, Steve followed, proving that there was still _some_ trust left between them.

Everything wasn't lost.

The Avengers handled Tony's return surprisingly well. Bruce couldn't seem to stop smiling and Thor slapped Tony's back so hard that he stumbled from the force. Sam settled for a more dignified, but no less heartfelt, hand on the shoulder, as well as a couple of whispered words that not even Bucky could catch. They made Tony smile, though, so he assumed they had to have been just as sincere as most other things Sam did. Barton, for his part, insisted he'd never believed Tony dead in the first place, but Bucky was pretty sure Barton was lying. Nat gave Tony that fond, crooked smile of hers and the gentle hand she placed on his arm — a brief, yet meaningful, touch — revealed more relief and care than words ever could.

Steve, much like Bucky, watched the exchange with a fond look on his face. Sometimes Bucky forgot that Steve and Tony had been friends for years before he'd come crashing into their lives, but it was easy to see that now. The strain of grief was gone from Steve's posture, his eyes bright and smile soft. Having Tony back clearly meant as much to Steve as it did to Bucky.

That, right there, was the thing Bucky regretted the most about his actions after Tony's supposed death — the fact that he had behaved as if he was the only one in mourning. If he had been a little less wrapped up in his own pain, he would have seen how much Steve and the others were suffering.

He shouldn't have been so selfish.

With that in mind, Bucky felt it was understandable if he stiffened in alarm when Colonel Rhodes walked up to him. Bucky was ashamed to admit that he had avoided the man — along with Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan — ever since the explosion at the Avengers Tower. Those three were the ones who had known Tony the longest and Bucky hadn't wanted to come face to face with grief he knew had to rival his own.

Colonel Rhodes looked pretty relaxed now, though. Perhaps because Tony was back, safe and sound, surrounded by his colleagues and friends at the impromptu welcome back party they had decided to throw at the old S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Bucky gathered up enough courage to meet Rhodes' gaze, not quite able to interpret the look in his eyes.

"I always assumed he'd come back," was what Rhodes eventually said, his tone shockingly nonchalant.

"What?" Bucky blurted out in surprise. He wasn't sure how to react; that certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear.

"He's done this a couple of times." Rhodes smile was crooked, but without malice. He seemed amused, and perhaps a little tired. "Unless there's an _actual_ body, I'll always assume he'll come back."

Bucky frowned. "The fire would have destroyed it," he pointed out. He felt strangely clumsy, perhaps because this was one of the people who understood Tony better than Bucky did — probably better than he _ever_ would. "They said there wouldn't have been much left."

Colonel Rhodes laughed. "Convenient, isn't it?" Rhodes smiled, his gaze finding Tony amongst the small crowd gathered in the mess hall. "The lack of a body should have been your first clue he might still be alive."

In all honesty, Bucky hadn't thought about it that way. He had wanted them to find a body for the team to bury, sure, but he hadn't questioned it when the investigators hadn't. The lack of a body really should have struck him as suspicious.

Bucky looked at Rhodes, narrowing his eyes. "You're tryin' to make a point, aren't you?"

"Maybe I am," Rhodes replied with a deceptively casual shrug.

"Then spit it out."

Colonel Rhodes chuckled before turning to face Bucky, bluntly stating, "You messed up."

Bucky pressed his lips together into a thin line.

"No, hear me out." It was less of a request and more of an order and Bucky found himself obeying, albeit grudgingly. The man technically outranked him, after all. "I get wanting vengeance, but if you had been less hellbent on going off on a violent rampage, you might have stopped long enough to at least consider the facts and think things through. That would have saved you a lot of pain."

While that was an excellent point, Bucky wasn't happy to have it pointed out to him.

"And," Rhodes continued, "you might also have realized you weren't alone."

The calm, sincere way Colonel Rhodes said those words reminded Bucky of Steve, in the best way possible. He met Rhodes' gaze, allowing his tense shoulders to lower.

"You really think that would've made a difference?" Bucky asked, almost surprised by his own lack of sarcasm.

"I think so, yeah." Rhodes exhaled slowly, and he really did look tired then, the worry of the past couple of weeks still lingering on his face. "I would have helped you look. I've done it before." Rhodes shook his head and smiled, as if chasing away the gloomy thoughts. "Besides, I would also have told you to calm the fuck down and stop being such an idiot."

Bucky let out a small, almost startled, laugh. "Yeah, I think I might have needed that."

Steve had tried, but Bucky had a feeling that Rhodes wouldn't have been as gentle about it. The man was used to dealing with Tony, after all, which required a different kind of mindset.

Bucky jumped when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, not expecting Rhodes to touch him.

"What I'm trying to say is that if this ever happens again, come to me, okay?" Rhodes' dark eyes were honest and determined, his hand a firm weight on Bucky's shoulder. "I'll make sure you keep your head on straight _and_ that we catch the bad guy."

While Bucky hoped something like this would never happen again — thinking that he had lost Tony had been unbearable — he could see the benefits of having an ally. Henderson might have been dealt with, and would no doubt be dragged to trial as soon as he was discharged from the hospital, but Tony had a lot of enemies. A second pair of eyes and hands could be useful. Besides, Bucky didn't doubt that if there was one person who would fight just as fiercely to protect Tony Stark as he would, it was Colonel Rhodes.

Bucky felt calm settle over him, a weight lifting. "Thanks," he said. "I'll remember that."

Rhodes only reply was a pleased smile, but it was all Bucky needed.

If there ever was a next time, he wouldn't be alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! The reveal of how Tony survived will probably be a letdown to many of you, since it's a lot less dramatic than your theories, but that's how I roll, I guess? I tend to take the calm and rational way.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, anyway! On Friday you will get the last one, which is more of an epilogue, really, but needed to tie things together and offer some closure. See you then! <3


	6. Epilogue

 

* * *

 

Bucky made his way down the basement stairs with a plate of sandwiches, heading for Tony's workshop. Calling it a basement was misleading in many ways since it looked nothing like one with its delicate light fixtures and the expensive rug, but Bucky supposed everything was more lavish than necessary in the Stark mansion.

Once he had returned, Tony had opened up the doors to his family home without hesitation, offering it as the Avengers' new base of operation until something more appropriate could be arranged.

While not wanting to complain, Bucky could admit that staying at the mansion made him a little uncomfortable. He _had_ grown fairly used to luxuries while living in the Avengers Tower — Tony spoiled them all rotten — but this was different. The mansion _oozed_ old money and each piece of furniture seemed to be a priceless antique Bucky was terrified of ruining.

The house felt more like a museum than a place to live in — something Tony seemed to agree on considering how quickly he had pulled out blueprints for a new Avengers base. The construction was already well underway if Bucky wasn't mistaken.

He reached the thick steel door and punched in his access code. No matter how many times he'd done this in the past three weeks, he always feared — if only for a second — that it wouldn't open. That Tony would have changed his mind and blocked him from the workshop.

There was a cheerful beep before the door unlocked. Bucky exhaled in relief and pushed his way through, at once greeted by Tony's music, blasting at a frankly ear-shattering volume. Thankfully, JARVIS lowered it as soon as Bucky stepped over the threshold.

"Thank you, JARVIS," he said, making his way to the workbench Tony was hunched over. He seemed lost in his own little world, so caught up in rebuilding the bots he didn't even react to Bucky's presence — at least not until he placed the plate of sandwiches next to Tony's elbow, making him jump in surprise. "Eat somethin'," Bucky urged, voice soft.

Tony blinked, but gave Bucky a smile soon enough. "I'm pretty sure I'm too old to warrant a babysitter." His tone was fond.

"I thought so too, but here I am," Bucky replied teasingly.

Tony laughed and put the screwdriver away, turning his chair to face Bucky. "You'll spoil me," he warned.

"You say that as if it would be a bad thing, sweetheart."

The endearment just slipped out and Tony looked slightly taken aback by it. He averted his gaze and Bucky cursed himself for making Tony uncomfortable. Things had been awkward between them since Tony's return, neither of them knowing where they stood and both trying to figure out how to move forward. Bucky had done his very best not to push, but he couldn't deny that he missed Tony — both their friendship and having him as a lover.

"Tony, I'm—"

"I should apologize," Tony interrupted.

"What?" Bucky stared at Tony in surprise. "Why should you apologize?"

Tony got to his feet, meeting Bucky's gaze with determination in his eyes. "For being cruel enough to let you suffer for weeks. I was angry, but that's no excuse to—"

"You don't have to apologize." Bucky swallowed. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Tony sighed, but he looked fond rather than upset. "And that's why I _should_ apologize. The fact that I'm alive doesn't mean I wasn't also an asshole who pretended to be dead for weeks. You had to suffer through those weeks, thinking I was... well, _gone_."

Bucky dared to reach out and gently take Tony's hand in his. "Tony, please. You had your reasons." He kept talking before Tony had time to interrupt. "Was I happy? No, 'course not. But I'd rather just put it behind us, if that's okay with you? I..." Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at their hands. "I just wanna forget that there was ever a time when I thought I'd lost you."

A second passed, then another, before Bucky felt a tug on his hand, pulling him towards Tony.

"Okay. Let's do that."

Their gazes met and Bucky couldn't help that his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Tony's smile. It was the kind of smile that gave him hope for the future — made him believe that they might be able to get past all this and get back together at some point.

"I want you to know that I forgive you." Tony's voice was soft and intimate, perhaps because they stood close enough that Bucky could almost feel Tony's lips against his own. "And I want to try again."

Bucky took a careful breath, hope thrumming through his veins. "Try again?"

"Well, seeing as you didn't actually dump me because you'd stopped loving me — which, let's be honest, would have been more expected — I don't see why—"

Bucky cut him off with a kiss. It was rude and perhaps a little too forward, but he couldn't help it. He'd spent _weeks_ wishing he could kiss Tony again.

He tasted just like Bucky remembered.

Despite the suddenness of the kiss, Tony adapted to it without pause, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck and pulling him closer. Tony was just as eager as Bucky, if the content hum he let out was anything to go by. It felt amazing to have Tony in his arm again — to be surrounded by his scent and taste. It was more addicting than ever.

The kiss ended much too quickly in Bucky's opinion, but Tony didn't pull back further than absolutely necessary, resting their foreheads together. While Tony caught his breath, Bucky couldn't resist the temptation to run his fingers through Tony's hair, reveling in the closeness.

"I love you," he whispered, voice full of the happiness growing inside of him.

Tony smiled and playfully rubbed his nose against Bucky's. "I love you too."

For the first time in several long, agonizing weeks, Bucky finally allowed himself to relax. Tony was safe, right there in his arms, and they had been given a second chance.

Bucky was not going to take it for granted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! This chapter is basically just a bunch of fluff to make up for all the pain I've put you all through. Sooo yeah! I hope you've enjoyed this story, even if it hurt! There IS a happy ending, after all ;D
> 
> Once again I'd like to thank [Snnaaft](https://snnaaft.tumblr.com/) for betaing and [ivoughrie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoughrie/pseuds/ivoughrie) for offering me some much needed input and encouragement.
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies! <3


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